


Ghost of You

by Aesthetically_Angsty



Series: The Bobby/Trevor Wilson Experience [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, Grieving, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Pining, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesthetically_Angsty/pseuds/Aesthetically_Angsty
Summary: A short Lukebobby fic inspired by Ghost of You by 5 Seconds of Summer.It took him a whole year to step foot in the garage.
Relationships: Alex & Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Luke Patterson
Series: The Bobby/Trevor Wilson Experience [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014114
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I switch tenses at least 5 times -Syd

_ Cleaning up today _

_ Found that old Zeppelin shirt _

_ You wore when you ran away _

_ And no one could feel your hurt _

_ We're too young, too dumb _

_ To know things like love _

_ But I know better now _

It took him a whole year to step foot in the garage. A whole year to mourn the loss of not only his best friends, but the one person he loved the most, Luke. Lucas Patterson was literally his one weakness, not that he or anyone else knew that. He was the main reason that Bobby was dreading going into the garage. Sure there were memories of all the guys in there. The time that they had to take care of Reggie because he tried to fix his amp in the rain and they watched Star Wars until he fell asleep, or the time they threw Alex a coming out party after he finally got the courage to tell them he was gay, or even when they booked the Orpheum gig and they jumped around screaming, but Luke he lived here, they had more moments in this studio than anything. He never thought becoming friends with a 7 year old, brown haired, wide smiled, boy at his guitar lessons would lead to losing himself when he lost him. 

He entered the garage taking breath as he pulled open the wide doors, and just like that it hit him. Everything, the memories, the emotions, the feeling of loss he spent a year trying to get over, because everything was still there. Alex’s drums sat in the middle of the room, the sunset curve logo printed on the front. The walls lined with his, Luke, and Reggie’s guitars/basses. He makes his way towards them, and lets his fingers trace Luke’s acoustic. Memories of him frantically writing his emotions down in his notebook he got from him for his birthday when they were 10. His acoustic was reserved for special songs, like his song, but that was a memory for a different time. He always sat on the couch. The couch, Luke’s couch, dubbed that when he officially moved in. He let him sleep in his room at first, but learned it wasn’t really the best idea when he realized he loved him more than platonically. He hadn’t kicked him out of the room though, that was all Luke. He moved to the couch because he thought it’d be easier to write and not disturb him, also it was less likely he’d be caught considering Bobby never told his parents Luke was there. 

He moved over to it and sat down. Carefully, not flopping down like he used to. Next to him, the bright blue bag that Luke brought when he ran away, the bag he had when he left with the guys to get street dogs, the bag he had when he died, when he found them in the alley and called the ambulance. He reached out to grab the bag, before hastily retreating. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t open the bag, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to feel like a part of them, a part of him. Instead he grabbed it and made his way up the stairs to the loft. There wasn’t much up there, a record collection, other music equipment, and some clothes that belonged to them. He sat the bag down, and kneeled to the ground. He shuffled through the clothes, setting some aside to take back with him, others to fold and leave here for another day when he gets the courage to come back. He’s halfway done when he stops. He notices a tee shirt in the pile. It’s white and has the Led Zeppelin logo on it and at first he thinks it’s his, and he’s about to put in the keep pile, but then he realizes that it’s Luke’s from the night he left. The night that Luke came knocking on the garage door, weeks before Christmas, tears forming, and his bike thrown near the bushes. The look he had on read sadness, anger, and regret, but that didn’t stop him from making a joke about something Bobby couldn’t even remember. What he does remember is the way that Luke had immediately hugged him when he offered for him to stay, the way he smelled like fabric softener. He remembered the way the next day Luke immediately started writing Unsaid Emily, the way he poured his heart into that song, as a way to let them know what he was thinking. They had always asked but he never answered directly, because we wouldn’t understand. Lastly he remembered when he said ‘I love you’. It wasn’t implied romantically, like a confession the way he had hoped it would be, instead it was followed by a ‘thanks man’ and another hug. He returned the sentiment of course, meaning it differently, but he didn’t need to know that. Bobby brought the shirt close to him, and let the tears he was holding back escape. Maybe, a year wasn’t long enough.

_ So I drown it out like I always do _

_ Dancing through our house _

_ With the ghost of you _

_ And I chase it down _

_ With a shot of truth _

_ Dancing through our house _

_ With the ghost of you _

After his breakdown he went back into the house he took, the shirt and other clothes he chose with him, but left everything else there. He found himself in the kitchen after a while. His parents were out, and well there was no one to stop him anymore. I grabbed the bottle off of the shelf not even bothering to get a cup. He brought the top to his lips. He was on his third swig when he realized he probably shouldn’t have done it, but it was too late. His head started hurting, but he ignored it, finishing the bottle, before picking up another one. He drank this one faster; he was halfway done when he sunk to the floor. Head resting on the fridge bottle still in hand. He thought about the guys again about how much music meant to them, how they all became friends, how they were there for each other and now he’s alone. He hasn’t touched an instrument since that night. He couldn’t find it in him to play. Drinks the final drops while he thinks about Luke. His eyelids grow heavier, and he feels like he can hear his voice. At first it’s scolding him, then it’s comforting, and finally before the darkness takes over he hears the faint sound of Luke’s singing.


End file.
